


Tools

by Woozletania



Series: Sanctuary [6]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Obsessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 22:45:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15301704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woozletania/pseuds/Woozletania
Summary: Rocket doesn't like losing things. Peter tries to help.





	Tools

Hours after Yondu's funeral, Peter found Rocket sitting cross-legged in an empty cabin on the Quadrant. Surrounding the little raccoon in an arc was an array of tools. Some had the handmade look he'd come to associate with Rocket's work and some were gleaming, polished metal, expensive and, knowing Rocket, probably stolen.

Peter paused on the way by the door and watched as Rocket methodically picked each tool up, gave it a quick going over, checked the charge level on those that had active circuits, and then put it down in precisely the same spot and orientation it had been before his little clawed hand descended.

It was a small assortment of tools and it only took Rocket a couple of minutes to look them over. The shiny ones went into a tool pouch, obviously one Rocket made by its size and design. The fit into custom slots in the leather and he hung it on his belt. There was a tool box for the rest.

"Tool inventory, buddy?"

Rocket didn't seem to hear. His hand went out in that same precise motion and picked up the tool at the left end of the arc. One by one he examined them, checked the charge on those that used it, until each was once again back in precisely the same spot on the deck.

When he lifted the flap of the tool pouch and pulled out the first tool he'd only just put away, placing it exactly where it'd been two minutes before, Peter's eyes narrowed.

"Rocket." The raccoon's ear didn't even twitch. "Rocket!"

Rocket flinched and looked up. "What? You gonna just loom over me or you got something ta say?"

"What are you doing?"

"Oh y'know." Rocket indicated the arc of tools. "Just seein' what I have left. Lost a lot of stuff when the Milano got hit."

Even as he spoke he was picking up tools, his voice lapsing into a mumble as he checked each in turn. Peter had seen this before, the seeming compulsion to double and triple check his supplies. Usually Rocket was vocal during the whole affair, though, humming or snarkily commenting on whatever stupid thing Peter was doing as he tinkered.

What struck him now were the gaps in the arc of tools. If they were normally spaced evenly - and given the micrometrically precise movements of his hands they had to be - maybe a third of his inventory remained. There had been four tool boxes on his workbench before the Sovereign hit them. Only one, and the pouch of shiny tools was left.

"You gonna be OK?"

For a moment he thought Rocket didn't hear him, engrossed as he was in his fifth (since Peter walked in, anyway) recount of his tools. Then he looked up.

"Sure. Why wouldn't I be?' He looked down at the arc of tools, with its gaps. "Just don't like...losin' things."

For just a second there was a hitch in his voice. Just the very edge of a sob. 

It wasn't just tools, Peter knew. Kraglin said Rocket and Yondu had a face to face and came out of it as something like kindred spirits. Rocket only had a few friends and now he'd lost one he just made. And then the tools, too. The ones he made himself and the ones he'd accumulated via theft or purchase. All familiar in his hands, all carrying memories with them. All those pieces of his short life gone as though they'd never been.

"I got an idea, Rock."

Once again the pause as the raccoon dragged himself out of his monomaniacal tool inventory. He blinked. "What was that, Pete?"

"I was thinking he take one of the satellite ships," Peter gestured in the general direction of the Quadrant's hangar, "We tune the sensors up to max, and we go back where we got shot up. The Sovereign are long gone. Maybe we can find some of the stuff that got blown out of the Milano. We can go by Berhert too, see if we find anything."

Rocket's little clawed hand paused in the middle of putting down a tool. He'd kept on picking them up and putting them down even as he looked at Pete, his hands knowing where each should go. Rather than setting it down it put the tool in Rocket's lap. He had the raccoon's attention.

"That's never gonna work," he growled. "With air pressure behind them those things are gonna be scattered all over creation."

Peter shrugged. "I got time. We might get lucky and find some."

Rocket sat back, leaning on his hands. The tool in his lap shifted and remarkably he didn't instantly grab it. "You sure? Once I get lookin' we could be out there for a while. And that's pretty close to their space, could be risky."

Peter smiled. What do you do when your friend is hurting and doesn't know how to ask for comfort? You be his friend. No matter how long it took.

"Told you, Rock. I got time." He waited as Rocket stowed away the tools and rose to his feet before reaching and out oh so briefly touched his furry shoulder. Not petting him, never just petting him as he would an animal. Just patting his shoulder as he would a human friend. Even if sometime the patting was indistinguishable from petting. It was the thought that counts.

"Let's go, buddy. See what we can find."


End file.
